


Jacqueline has a Lesbian Experience!

by thinlizzy2



Category: Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Genre: F/F, Humor, Mention of minor character deaths (offscreen), Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the zombie apocalypse and Jacqueline is stuck in a gross old Uber car with her kid, her ex-PA, the world's biggest diva, an old lady who stinks of old lady stink and that blue collar worker whose name she can never remember.  She'd love to say things couldn't possibly get worse, but by this point she knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jacqueline has a Lesbian Experience!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serenade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenade/gifts).



Jacqueline stepped out of the car, and shook her head. Another dusty nothing of a town in another dusty nothing of a state. Of course she knew that she should be happy to be alive and not shambling around all stiff and unpleasant while bits of her fell off and she mumbled about eating brains. Objectively, that much was clear. But really, what was the point of being alive and unzombified if one was stuck in the fucking _midwest_? 

She headed into the motel office without a backward glance. She had learned it was better that way. If she actually asked Kimmy to carry the bags, the girl would make her outraged hamster face and sometimes even try to argue. But if she just went inside, Kimmy and the bags would follow. Sure she would make her little sputtery congested dolphin noises, but Jacqueline could handle that. It was even nice to have some consistency in this rapidly changing world. 

Titus had preceded her into the motel; he'd learned the Kimmy/bags trick early too. Jacqueline found him arguing with the impassive woman behind the front desk. 

"$150 dollars a room? Do you think this is the Ritz or something? Will there be chocolates on my pillow and two dozen long-stemmed roses perfuming the air in my _chambre du salon?_?" 

Jacqueline gently pushed him out of the way and handed the woman her credit card. Yes the dead may be walking the earth, but she still had her pride and she did _not_ bargain. Also who knew how long the cash economy would hold out? She might as well spend it while she could. 

It wasn't her money anyway; it had been Julian's. Zombies hardly needed a retirement fund and his ATM password had still been J-U-L-N. Jacqueline supposed it was nice to be rich again, but it would have been nicer if there had still been high-end goods or luxury spas or a set of codified social classes with people she could look down on.

She wasn't sure what the air in her room smelled of, but it certainly wasn't roses. Sighing, she put her bag over by the window and got Buckley settled in the bed for a nap. There was no point in unpacking. The horde was moving quickly and they needed to stay ahead of it. They wouldn't be there long.

She was pleased to see that the tap water there still looked reasonably clean. For a moment, she wondered if a bath might be a possibility. Then she got a look at the tub and shuddered. Definitely not. 

She missed baths so much though. Baths and massages, yoga classes and good wine and exfoliation and Botox. She knew she was lucky to be alive, but she missed feeling human. 

The water was probably drinkable though. And even more excitingly, she had passed an ice machine near the elevator that looked serviceable. A cold drink! Trying not to think about the days when treating herself had meant a month in Fiji, she grabbed a dusty glass and set out for ice. 

The woman in front of the ice machine stopped her in her tracks. Even from the back, Jacqueline could see a good two inches of dark roots in what must have once been a very expensive dye job. Her blouse was in shreds and stained with sweat, but it was also raw silk. Most shockingly she was wearing Louboutins with the heels sawed off, no doubt to accommodate faster running. Jacqueline was torn between pity for this poor, pathetic creature and sick horror. Was this what _she_ looked to strangers like now? 

Then the woman turned around, and the pity was gone. Because this was no stranger. 

"Hello Jacqueline", Deirdre Robespierre said. "So you've survived. I can't say I'm surprised." 

And Jacqueline realized that she wasn't surprised either. There had been no chance that they wouldn't have met again, after all. 

"Deirdre", she said. "You're looking good. Well, good-ish. Zombie apocalypse considered, of course." 

Was it her imagination, or did a sudden spark appear in Deirdre's eyes? "You noticed the apocalypse? I must stay I'm surprised. I would have assumed the smell from your man – Ross, right?" 

"Russ", Jacqueline murmured. 

"Whatever. I would have thought the stink off him would have masked the zombie smell nicely." 

"Russ was eaten", Jacqueline informed her. "The horde got him outside of Jersey. And your husband?" 

"I had to shoot him", Deirdre admitted. 

"He was infected?" 

"No. Just really whiny." 

Jacqueline understood. What had started back in New York and was quickly spreading all over the country – it changed things. Murder was no longer the worst possible crime; weakness was. Obnoxiousness was a close second. "So. You're here alone?" 

"I am." 

Deirdre moved even closer. Jacqueline didn't flinch. They had been this close before, plus she was a warrior against masses of the undead now. She could manage this. "What a shame for you." 

"Possibly." Deirdre smiled at her. "And you?" 

Jacqueline shook her head. "With friends." She felt weirdly proud of that; she still had people in the world and Deirdre was all alone. Of course her people were Kimmy, Titus, crazy Lillian and that blue-collar worker whose name she could never remember, but Deirdre didn't need to know that. 

"How about your children?" 

"Last I heard, Xanthippe had joined a radical Amazonian resistance force in Connecticut. They tell me she has a very impressive collection of trophy-ear necklaces. Buckley is here with me." 

"Can you get rid of him for the night?" 

And Jacqueline felt her heart rate increasing. Again, she wasn't surprised. This whole conversation felt like it had been inevitable for a while. Still, she had her dignity. "I _could._ " It was true. She controlled the toilet paper supply on the road; Kimmy would have to take Buckley if she asked her to. "But why would I want to do that?" 

Deirdre slid a hand onto Jacqueline's hip, slipping it under her shirt and resting two fingers at the waistband of her jeans. Jacqueline couldn't help but gasp. The hands that had always been so soft and smooth were calloused and rough now and the previously perfectly manicured nails were ragged. It was all undeniably exciting. "You know why." 

Jacqueline swallowed hard. It was difficult to decide if it would be more satisfying to have Deirdre or to deny her. "I managed to resist you when you were clean. And rich. And deodorized. What makes you think I'd give in now?" 

"I'm someone from home." 

"I have my friends." 

"I'm amazing in bed." There was a bit of a sneer in Deirdre's voice. It turned Jacqueline on just as much as it annoyed her. 

"I have two hands." 

"I have moisturizer." 

And Jacqueline's knees went weak. "Do you mean it?" 

Deirdre was so close that Jacqueline could feel her breath on her cheek. "Shiseido Future Solution LX." She slid her pinky finger into Jacqueline's jeans. "Total. Regenerating. Cream." 

She very nearly came right there. "Room 117. Give me an hour." 

It wasn't until she'd hustled Buckley off to Kimmy, braved the bath and sprayed the very last of her perfume into her panties that she realized that she'd forgotten to get the ice.

*********

"She's coming with us." Jacqueline made her announcement in a brook-no-arguments voice, but none of her friends were any good at taking a hint.

"Ex-squeeze me?" Titus arched his eyebrows. "I don't remember voting yes on another mouth to feed." 

"She has her own car", Jacqueline pointed out. "We can carry more gear if she comes with us." 

Lillian snorted. "It's a European car. Those are no good for dodging classic red-blooded American zombies." 

"Seriously?" Deirdre piped up. "Zombies don't even have blood anymore." 

"Let me handle this!" Jacqueline hissed. 

Dierdre ignored her. "And which ones are the zombie-proof cars? Show me where it says that in their manuals." 

"She can come." Kimmy smiled from the driver seat. "I mean, why not?" 

"Why not? Why _not???_ " Titus alternated his stare between Kimmy and Jacqueline. Either he read something in Jacqueline's face or he just lost interest. "Eh. Why not?" He turned to Deirdre. "Hey - new girl! What kind of sound system you got in that thing." 

Deirdre lifted an eyebrow. "Better than whatever Red has in hers, I'm sure." 

"You play that classical shit?" 

"Nineties boy bands." 

"I call shotgun!" Titus made a dive for the passenger side door. Deirdre got it locked just in time. 

"In the back", she said firmly. "Jacqueline rides with me." 

"It's for the best", Jacqueline promised the pouting Titus. "We've got the fight of our lives ahead of us. We'll need to stay sharp."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Serenade for Rare Pair Fest 2016. I was so excited to see a zombie prompt for Kimmy Schmidt, and I loved this pairing. Hope you enjoy the fic!


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